


Agent Coulson's Other Consultant

by Gang_Aft_Agley



Series: Superheroes, Scooby Style [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Phil and Giles are friends, and occasionally consultants, pre-phlint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:45:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gang_Aft_Agley/pseuds/Gang_Aft_Agley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Get somebody from Linguistics down here.  If they come up empty … I’ll make a call.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agent Coulson's Other Consultant

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during the first Thor movie, right before Thor assaults the compound. Giles and Coulson are friends and colleagues, of a sort, anyway.
> 
> I'm blaming twangcat for this; it's all her idea, and all her fault.

The phone rang, and Giles frowned at the number that popped up on the display.   Although he had a great deal of personal affection and professional respect for the man on the other end of the line, his calls rarely boded anything but ill. Either he was calling to be maudlin about the state of limbo that was his love life (which was ridiculous, because a few-timed words would easily sort the situation out, at least in Giles’ humble opinion), or something in the realm of international security had gone horribly wrong, and his own expertise was needed. Either way, he was quite tempted to let the call ring through and deal with it later.

Sadly, part of a Watcher’s calling was an inability to refuse help to those in dire need, and with a regretful sigh for his quiet evening with tea and a book, Giles pressed _Accept_.

“Giles here.”

“Oh good, you picked up.  I thought you might ignore my call, especially after the last time. “

“I was considering it, Phil.  And if this is to be a repeat of the night after Budapest, I am hanging up and texting Miss Romanov immediately.  Don’t think I won’t.” 

“Oh, I have no doubt of it.  However, this isn’t one of _those_ calls, and anyway, Miss Romanov would likely be grateful for any excuse to abandon Tony Stark and his idiocy.”

“Yes, I overheard some of the younger Potentials gossiping about his birthday fiasco; made quite a stir on TMZ, and they are all great admirers of Miss Potts, so they feel bad for the position she’s in right now. Was that something you and your ilk were involved in?”

“In a manner of speaking.  I _was_ assigned to it, but then the Director took over, along with Romanov, and he sent me to New Mexico to check out an 0-8-4 instead.  Which is where you come in: I’ve run across something that has completely stumped both our scientists and our linguists, and I believe it may be more your métier than ours.”

While he was speaking, Giles was rummaging on his desk for pen and paper, finally coming up with a pencil stub and a half-scribbled out legal pad.  Taking a seat, he laid the phone down on the table and set in on speaker.

“Right, give me the particulars, and I’ll see what I can do.” 

Phil described the 0-8-4, the sand-circles, the inability to dislodge the thing from its current position, and the curious signal interference it was emitting.  Giles frowned; nothing was ringing any bells, but that didn’t mean the thing _wasn’t_ magic. Still, at least SHIELD had agents who knew to call in experts before someone got seriously injured or killed.

“Didn’t your scholars come up with _anything_ more than that?  I will need at least some direction in which to focus my research,” Giles asked, rather waspishly, as he scribbled frantically.  Really, he would have to have a word with Dawn about pilfering his office supplies. 

“It’s nothing they recognize or could translate, but the symbols looked vaguely Nordic.  I should mention that the ‘vaguely’ was highlighted and underlined. Three times.  In hot pink highlighter.”

 “Oh dear.  Still, better than nothing, I suppose.  Look, if Dawn, Willow and I come up empty too, I’ll send you the contact information for Dr. Elliot Randolph in Seville.  I’d call him directly, but I doubt you want this to get out, and I can’t force him to sign a confidentiality agreement the way your jack-booted thugs can.”

Phil sighed, a combination of frustration and relief.

“This Randolph, he knows his stuff?”

“Oh yes, he’s quite an expert in Norse languages and mythology; top-notch in his field.  A bit too invested in wooing the undergraduates for my taste, but sound enough otherwise.”

“Wonderful.  And I hate to ask you to call LA, but you might want to get Dr. Burkle on the line as well.  We, uh, _borrowed_ some equipment from an astrophysicist who was doing work in the area, and I’d like to consult with her about the data we’re getting.”

Giles clucked his tongue in mock censure at his friend.

“Dear, dear Phil.  Color me surprised.  Actually, I am – surprised you didn’t _borrow_ the astrophysicist as well as his equipment!  Might have saved you some trouble.”

“ _Her_ equipment, Giles.  _Her_.  Dr. Jane Foster, along with her colleague Dr. Erik Selvig and her intern, Darcy Lewis. And I didn’t take Dr. Foster and the others into custody because I have a bad feeling about this, and I want all civilians as far away as possible.  You should have _seen_ the local rednecks gathered around the crash site when we got there – it was almost a tailgate!”

Giles’ brows creased slightly, puzzled at his friend’s choice of words.

“Rednecks, Phil?  I thought you were in New Mexico, not Alabama!”

Phil’s dry, amused chuckled echoed in his ear.

“Surely you’ve lived long enough across the pond to know that the redneck ethos is far from confined to the Deep South. In fact, they were making a competition out of it: trying to see who could dislodge the thing from solid rock. They had beer, lawn chairs, a grill, and had just ripped the bed off of a pickup trying to tow it away when we arrived.”

Giles sniffed derisively.   _Americans._

“Sounds perfectly barbaric.”

“Still just as much of a snob as when we met, Giles, your Ripper persona and earring aside.  Besides, it’s no different than the competition in _The Sword in the Stone_ , only T.H. White described it in terms of halberds and heraldry, rather than hot dogs and a Hemi.”

Silently, Giles conceded the point but he was not about to do so aloud.  Phil just as silently acknowledged the concession, and changed the subject.

“Anyway, I’ll e-mail you all the data we’ve got, including some high-res pictures of the 0-8-4 and the sand circles. The latter seem almost … _burned_ into the ground, which is something Research is having fits over.  I’ll courier some samples over to you as well, and to LA, if Dr. Burkle wants them.

“Lovely, I can almost see Willow salivating over them now.  I’ll get Buffy on stand-by, in case you need some manpower that your agents aren’t quite up to dealing with.”

“Right.  Thanks a lot, Rupert; I’ll keep you updated and let you know if anything changes.”

“Much appreciated.  And _do_ give my regards to Agent Barton.”

There was a long pause, in which Giles could almost hear Phil pinching the bridge of his nose on the other end of the line. He smiled slightly to himself. 

“And what makes you think Agent Barton was assigned to this mission?”

“Give me a little credit, Phil; between you, Xander and the Initiative, I have learnt a little bit about military protocol over the years. Even a temporary installation of this type needs some sort of sniper, to deter or eliminate intruders. As I’ve witnessed firsthand, there’s no one in SHIELD better at that sort of thing than Agent Barton. And even if you didn’t need a sniper, he still would follow you around like a puppy if at all possible. Subtle, our little Hawkeye is _not_.  Besides, there’s a slight but unmistakable tension to your voice when the two of you are not at least in the same time zone, and however stressful your current assignment may be, that at least is absent.”

Phil sucked in an deep breath, probably to begin another one of his furious and completely spurious denials, but a loud wail on the other end of the line nearly deafened Giles, and he flinched back slightly in his seat.

“Sorry, Rupert, intruder alert, gotta go!” he heard Phil shout over the sheer wall of noise coming out of the phone. He then hung up, mercifully cutting off the ear-splitting siren.

Tsking again, Giles began clearing off his desk and got to work.  Phil’s cases were always interesting, and he wanted to be ready when the data came through.


End file.
